


Brilliant

by t_writes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bathtubs, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Minor Angst, My First Work in This Fandom, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_writes/pseuds/t_writes
Summary: The Bath Scene but Tender TM. Pre-relationship. Beginnings of pining. Jaskier takes care of Geralt and Geralt enjoys it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 192





	Brilliant

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, but, I wanna write more.. lemme know what u think??

❦

Geralt had no idea how he ended up in the copper tub. It had been Jaskier’s idea, of course, but Geralt didn’t remember ever agreeing. And yet. 

Something about being naked while Jaskier remained fully clothed had him itching to cover himself. 

He felt odd. Exposed. On edge. 

“Relax, Geralt,” came Jaskier’s singsong voice. Surprisingly, his body obeyed and the prickling itch under his skin subsided.

The sharp ring of a blade being drawn behind his back made Geralt tense again. 

“Woah, there,” Jaskier muttered, not unlike Geralt when something spooked Roach. He even patted Geralt’s side firmly. Geralt allowed himself to breathe and recovered after a few minutes. Only then did Jaskier come around to face Geralt, straight razor in hand. 

“You’re not even this jumpy when there are actual beasts around,” Jaskier said offhandedly. 

Geralt grunted and tilted his chin so that Jaskier had access to his admittedly scruffy face. 

Jaskier set to work after applying a good amount of shaving soap. He steadied himself by placing his left hand at the juncture between Geralt’s neck and shoulder. Jaskier moved in long, careful strokes, setting a rhythm that lulled Geralt almost to the edge of unconsciousness. The snick, snick of the blade was like an odd tune strummed on the chords that lay just beneath the skin of his throat. 

When he finished, Geralt quietly hummed his assent to Jaskier’s offer to de-tangle his matted, discolored hair. This process made Geralt’s eyelids droop and he was in danger of falling asleep with Jaskier’s hands in his hair. 

All at once, the intimacy was too much. He was naked in a bath with his (Friend? Acquaintance? Partner?) Jaskier’s fingerprints were all over his body. 

He rose from the bath at once with a sharp growl. The movement knocked Jaskier back on his ass and Geralt was immediately remorseful. But he had to end this encounter immediately or else he would crack open before the world, the goddess Melitele, and Jaskier— who somehow was no longer part of the world. Jaskier had insinuated himself into the ‘us’ of us versus them quietly. He had been a stranger one day and the most familiar face the next.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jaskier sputtered. He wore a bewildered expression, blue-eyes wide and brows lifted to his hairline. He seemed to hold something that glinted silver in his right hand. Geralt’s mind jumped to weapon. Faster than he could really think about it he pinned Jaskier to the wall. The silver weapon in his hand drifted to the floor in a peculiar way. Softly, Geralt thought, like a feather. But, all of Geralt’s muscles were already tensed for a fight. 

He realized belatedly that the weapon which had glinted silver in the firelight was actually a lock of his white hair. It was almost unrecognizable— completely clean. He must have ripped it out when he startled out of the water not thinking of Jaskier’s hands still running through his hair. He relaxed minutely. 

“Geralt! Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” Jaskier was relentless in his questioning even as Geralt’s hand slid from his throat to rest on his sternum. 

“Jaskier, I’m sorry, I should-“ Geralt pulled away, releasing the other man like a long-held breath. 

Jaskier plopped to the floor looking stricken. “What happened?” He glanced down at the strands of clean white hair on the grimy wooden floor beside him. 

Geralt was already dressing though, not bothering to dry off. Jaskier is harmless, he told himself, he wanted to hire my protection. 

He felt foolish. He ducked his head as his face flushed with shame. 

“Geralt?”

Geralt didn’t make a sound. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice had turned firm. And Geralt found that he could not disobey. He thought he was stronger. 

He turned his eyes on Jaskier’s whose expression remained unsettled but unguarded all the same. Exposed, vulnerable to all of Geralt’s sharp edges. Geralt didn’t know what to do with that. 

“Come here,” Jaskier said. It wasn’t a suggestion. 

Geralt moved on leaden limbs to where the other man sat on the floor. Jaskier extended his hand into the space between them. Geralt took the hint and hauled Jaskier to his feet. For all that he purported to protect Jaskier, it often felt as though it were somehow the other way around. Even though mere moments ago Geralt was at his throat, Jaskier still dared to take the witcher’s hand. Still dared to trust. 

Still holding Geralt’s palms in his own, Jaskier leveraged himself so that he caught the other man’s gaze. Geralt could not look away. 

“Tell me,” Jaskier said, again in a tone that Geralt couldn’t place but also could not ignore. 

“I thought— I don’t know. I thought you had a weapon,” Geralt said, his voice dull, anticipating Jaskier’s rejection. This was it. The bard would finally decide that they should part ways. That his music would fare better with a subject whose face was far friendlier. 

“I would never hurt you, Geralt,” Jaskier said instead of the million other things that would make more sense. “I will never want to hurt you.”

Geralt furrowed his brow in consternation. 

“But I am-“ Geralt looked down at himself unable to come up with sufficient words. Instead, he said, “You are human.”

Jaskier lifted an eyebrow as if to say obviously.

“And I am,” Geralt began firmly but trailed off. He hummed in frustration. 

“So what?”

“So, the whole world hates me. I am an abomination. You should want—“

“I should want what? What the whole world wants? I am not like anybody you’ve met in the whole world, Geralt,” Jaskier shook his head in exasperation. 

It occurred to Geralt, just then, that Jaskier didn’t hate him and may never hate him. He relaxed, tentatively, relishing in the warmth of Jaskier’s gaze, the feeling of his scarred hands enveloped in Jaskier’s calloused fingers. 

When Geralt said nothing, Jaskier released his hands and brought them up to Geralt’s face. 

“Damn, I did a good job,” Jaskier muttered to himself, smoothing his thumbs over Geralt’s jaw. 

The corners of Geralt’s mouth turned down reflexively to hide the smile that Jaskier surprised out of him. He couldn’t hold in the snort though. 

“Did I just make you laugh?” Jaskier sounded shocked and delighted and he brought his smiling face so close to Geralt’s their foreheads touched. “Brilliant.”

Geralt flushed again, though the heat originated from Jaskier’s proximity rather than shame. If Jaskier noticed he gave no indication— it was just another thing for which Geralt was grateful.

❦


End file.
